


Kiss-Fist Means 'I Love You'

by cakeiton



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Angst, Dad sesshoumaru, Deaf Culture, F/M, Fluff, Healing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeiton/pseuds/cakeiton
Summary: An accident leaves Sesshomaru disabled and a widower single parent to a deaf daughter. By accepting others' assistance, especially the help of an ASL tutor, they learn to heal and communicate.
Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/Sesshoumaru
Comments: 32
Kudos: 42
Collections: SessKag Angst - Medium Angst





	1. ACCEPT-HARD

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter title will be an ASL idiom or colloquialism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything Inuyasha.
> 
> Thanks to Discord, namely Dross, Myth, revang, and milomai, for the plot bunny. I hope some of those other ideas show up as well!

…

  
  


Every night was the same dream.

It might have been a different time of day, or a different car, or a different road, but the dream always ended the same.

Tonight, he was driving the old coupe he owned when they had started dating. It was silver at some point in its life, but the night Sesshomaru had picked her up for their second date it was more of a lackluster gray. He had cleaned the interior and now, in his dream, he could smell the overly floral air freshener.

She was smiling, laughing at something he might have said or at one of her internal jokes, and was older than when they had first met. Her belly was swollen from their growing child, her more mature eyes sparkled with hope, and Sesshomaru knew how the dream would end. He tried to scream against it, to change the scene and make it different. He did not want to see it again.

But, as always, there was the blinding light, the screeching of grinding metal and locked tires, and the smell of that cheap air freshener burning in flames. Then, there was the pain.

Sesshomaru jolted awake, cold sweat dripping off his brow and the whole left side of his body burning. This had become standard. He did not need to look at the clock to know it was about four in the morning. He did not need to reach over to his wife’s side of the bed to know that she wasn’t there. Not that he could easily do so anymore anyways.

Wincing, he tried to turn towards the nightstand to find the small orange bottle, careful not to knock it over and spill its contents. He had thrown the cap across the room two days ago, frustrated at trying to get passed the child-proof top with only one hand. His brain was foggy from lack of sleep and an abundance of pain, but managed to dry swallow two pills before lying in the dark, waiting for them to work

It had been six weeks since the accident that left him disabled and their house too quiet. Six weeks of nightmares and pain and pity from others. Pity only made it worse. Deep down he knew everyone meant well, but he felt there wasn’t anything anyone could do but feel sorry for him. What good would anyone be? What good could he be now?

Sesshomaru gripped his sheets and felt his missing arm tingle. He tried to take his attention off of the phantom ache by letting his mind linger on the more painful memory of loss instead.

In his mind’s eye he could see her, running to him from their room with a positive pregnancy test, her smile bright and tears streaming down her sweet face.

 _‘You’re going to be a Dad!’_ she had squealed before running into his arms.

Both of them.

Sesshoumaru growled and reached for his phone. Before, it was kept on a charging station in the kitchen. She had hated phones in bed at night. During one of more energetic pregnancy mood swings, she had forbidden them from their room. He had abhorred the restriction originally. Now, it broke his heart to disobey her, even if he needed to be easy to reach.

Just in case.

Unlocking his phone, Sesshomaru awkwardly sat up and began to swipe away useless notifications. More people reaching out. More emails from support groups and professionals who must have received his information from the hospital. He sneered and felt a small, cathartic relief with each dismissal. They wanted him to heal. He was not ready.

Then, a melodic chirping of the Calendar app blipped at him, reminding him that today would not be like every other day since he had been discharged from the hospital for himself. Today would be very different and his stomach twisted from what he could only label as fear.

He would be allowed to see his daughter today.

The breath stilled in his throat and every part of him froze. He had seen her through the glass of the observation area of the NICU. When he was able to walk, his left side bandaged from surgery and relentlessly throbbing, Sesshomaru dragged himself along with the nurse. She was trying to give gentle warnings and reassurances, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing just how small and frail their baby was.

A heavy dread shot up from his weakened knees, reaching up from inside him to grab onto his collarbone and dragged him down. He allowed it, feeling the numbness and bitter cold envelop him entirely. The nurse was calling for help to get him back to his feet, but he could not really hear it. He could only see the tiny infant; a tuft of dark brown hair- _her_ dark brown hair- and countless tubes that kept her alive. He could only hear his wife’s voice endlessly listing baby names.

After a few very intense weeks, with several close calls of losing the child as well, she was stable enough for Sesshomaru to actually visit.

He stared at his phone, his mind lost in thought, and was unsure if he would be able to.

.

The early morning became early afternoon too quickly. Sesshomaru sat on their couch and waited for his ride to the hospital. His legs bounced, the jarring motion making his head and healing shoulder pound, but he couldn’t stop himself. Adrenaline raced through him as he remembered having to make the decision three weeks ago between the possibility of losing his wife or the possibility of losing both wife and child.

After three weeks of holding on, his wife’s health began to decline. The trauma of the accident and the stress of carrying a 23-week old fetus had been too much strain. They could deliver the baby and try to save her afterwards or try to induce a coma and use her as an incubator. It was a fucking horrible choice. Both options were incredibly unfair. He could feel nothing but pain and anger and hopelessness when the doctor pressured him for an answer. He knew why, time was short and they needed to act quickly. Sesshomaru still resented him for it.

In the end, she didn’t make it. The baby had. Barely.

Three weeks of fearing a phone call and keeping his cell by the bed drained him of almost anything left, but the child’s condition had improved dramatically. Finally, the prognosis was something other than, _‘We will do everything we can.’_ Now, after a short car ride, he was here to face his new reality.

Sesshomaru was led into the room with the rows of incubators. It was almost too warm and smelled of disinfectant. Breathing machines and beeping monitors sang a slow, morose rhythm that was inescapable. The sterile environment was not welcoming and he felt his hesitation grow.

His guide said something he did not catch. “I’m sorry?” Sesshomaru asked.

“I said,” the hospital attendant replied gently, “She is the one on the end of this aisle and to the right. There should be a chair waiting. Just let us know if you need anything.”

Instantly, he thought of the one thing he needed if he was to get through this, but she was gone and her legacy was just there- at the end of this aisle and to the right. He swallowed a hard lump and forced a step forward.

The baby had been silent since birth, too weak to even cry much. There had been a few close calls, what the staff had called “touch-and-go’s”, but they all assured him that she was strong. He had to be strong too now, and forced himself to take another step.

First, he saw that same tuft of dark brown hair. Then, pale wrinkled skin. The child’s eyes were closed and she seemed unaffected by the myriad of instruments emitting from her to keep her alive.

The chair they sat him in was hard, but he barely noticed. Sesshomaru thought he would not be able to look at her, that it would hurt too much and that he would feel too hopeless. Now, he couldn’t focus on anything else.

Tentatively, he reached in through the small opening of the incubator, his large hand almost encompassing her whole body. He shook, afraid of this delicate thing in front of him, and placed the tip of his pinky against her tiny palm.

“Hello,” Sesshomaru said, unable to think of anything else.

She laid there, unresponsive, as the machines kept their steady beat around them.

"It’s okay,” he said, his voice a little raspy from disuse. He cleared his throat and added gently, “You don’t have to respond. You take all the time you need.”

He stared at the impossibly small baby girl even as his vision became blurry from unshed tears, the tip of his finger dwarfing her doll-like hand. He watched her thin chest move up and down. Up and down. Up, down, and not giving up.

Finally, one tear fell, leaving a cool trail down his heated cheek. “I’ll be right here. I promise.”

Then, he felt her frail fingers squeeze his own. It was faint, like a butterfly flutter of pressure, but unmistakable. Surprised, a gasp of a chuckle escaped him.

“That’s good,” he encouraged, trying to keep his voice calm though something quickly blossomed in him. “Well done. That’s very good.”

Easily, his lips stretched in a smile that he wouldn’t be able to suppress if he tried.

His daughter held on to his finger well past visiting hours. There had been someone who requested him to leave, but he ignored them. They were not important. Only she was important.

Late into the evening when he finally acquiesced to the increasingly nervous nurses, Sesshomaru stepped out into the cool air and breathed deep. His back ached from the cheap, hard chair and shoulder protested every small movement, and he didn’t care.

Sesshomaru pulled out his phone, punched in a couple of commands, then held it to his tear-stained cheek.

Their little girl was so strong, so he would be too.

“Inuyasha,” Sesshomaru called to his shocked half-brother when he answered the other end. “I think I will require your assistance. When can you come over?”

  
  


…


	2. MUTE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything Inuyasha.
> 
> Thank you for the warm welcome to this fic! I hope I do it justice <3 (and sorry if there are errors)

…

  
  


The following weeks blurred together. He was not particularly busy, but the days melded into one inconsistent feeling of imbalance. Reaching out was extremely difficult for him, even after that first night he had invited Inuyasha over.

His younger half-brother had arrived quickly, but clearly still clearing the cobwebs of sleep. His round eyes were actively avoiding his missing arm, instead darting around the quiet home and the incomplete project on the living room floor.

“Hey,” Inuyasha greeted as he stepped in. “You okay? You sounded…”

“I called, “Sesshomaru interrupted, not comfortable with knowing how he sounded to others, “Because I am in need of some assistance.”

Inuyasha nodded warily. “Yeah, no, I know. Um…” The younger man stuttered and fidgeted with his hands. 

Sesshomaru had seen this quite a lot in the last couple months. Loss made people nervous. Some wanted to reach out without stepping over too far. Some wanted to talk but never knew what to say. Everyone wanted to fix the feeling of loss, subconsciously knowing one day it would be their turn to experience it and wanted to know that there was a way out. If they could help him, they could ease that fear within themselves. It was not as selfish as it sounded, but their anxious energy presented itself as pity. He hated pity. It did nothing but highlight how helpless he had been to stop any of this from happening in the first place.

They all said they wanted to help. Truth was, he did not know what they could do for him.

Except, maybe… “I need to build the crib,” Sesshomaru stated.

The fidgeting stopped. Inuyasha found the sleek clock on the wall and almost bristled. “It’s… it’s 1:30 in the morning.”

The older brother’s brow furrowed. “I am aware.”

Inuyasha stared dumbly back at him for a couple moments more before resigning himself with a nod. “Okay, sure. Whatever you need.” His rough, linen jacket shrugged off his shoulders and he kicked his worn shoes haphazardly towards the neat line of Sesshomaru and his wife’s own. Then, he pointed to the half-unpacked box in the center of the small living room. “That the culprit there?”

Before he could answer, Inuyasha was already halfway towards the mess, tying back his long hair. Normally, Sesshomaru would lay out all the pieces as a manual instructed, ensuring each one was accounted for so as not to waste any extra frustration in only building a thing halfway should something be missing. Inuyasha, apparently, did not have that discipline. Picking up the instructions, he fitted the first pieces together without double-checking they were even the correct ones.

“Indeed,” Sesshomaru answered, suddenly feeling very tired.

It was not long before the frustration infected them both.

“Will you just shut up and let me help you?” Inuyasha half-screamed, watching him try to hold the end of one long wooden leg between his knees, then balancing an extremely uncooperative screw in its pre-drilled hole so he could secure it in. After the fourth time it had fallen, his half-brother tried to hold it for him.

“Focus on your side,” Sesshomaru scolded.

“I’m done, you idiot.”

“Then you can wait!” His anger came easily, and the screaming was cathartic, like it had been when he was younger.

He could see Inuyasha struggle against fighting back. As children, and well into their early adult years, there was hardly a meeting between them where they didn’t fight. It wasn’t that Sesshomaru could see so much of their father, another contenious relationship, in his younger brother, but the absence of his mother was so striking. Sesshomaru was the obvious son of his parents, and Inuyasha was so clearly not.

It wasn’t the boy’s fault, but he had taken it out on him anyways.

Inuyasha grumbled and looked away, his jaw clenching and bloodshot eyes angry. Harsher than necessary, he rustled about the remaining pieces intent on continuing without Sesshomaru’s section. Then, after a few moments, his brow furrowed. “Huh, that’s weird. Looks like there’s a couple things missing.”

A faded memory came to Sesshomaru and he felt a hint of shame. Carefully, he stood, his knees aching and remaining arm wobbly from bearing his whole weight, and approached the couch. The elder brother pushed his hips into the couch, moving it away from the wall. Bracing his knee against the cushioned arm, he reached down and retrieved an odd L-shaped bracket.

Inuyasha smiled. “Ha! That’s it!” Hitching up the waist of his baggy red sweatpants, he crawled around to look under the rest of the furniture, finding strewn about bolts and screws. “Oh man, I was wondering where all this had gone off to. What happened? Did you let a dog try to put this together first?”

Sesshomaru darkened, stealing a glance towards his aching shoulder. “I had some trouble unpacking everything.”

“Oh, fuck,” Inuyasha responded, still on all fours and now unable to look away from his missing arm. “Oh man, I’m sorry, I-”

“Do not feel sorry for me,” the older brother barked. “I need your hands, not your mouth or pity.”

He was baiting him again, and a heat rose in the younger’s eyes. “It’s not pity.”

His sharp eyes glared down, pouncing on his unease. “Or your lies.”

Finally, Inuyasha’s patience was beginning to give out. “This ‘Better Than Everyone’ bullshit got old a long time ago, bastard.”

“Interesting choice of insult,” he countered, raising a haughty eyebrow.

He could hear his brother’s teeth grind together. “You called me here! Why are you starting shit? I get that you’re mad, but can you give it a break? It is three in the morning.”

The older brother’s expression soured. “I am not angry.”

Inuyasha cackled. “Like hell you’re not. And I get it. You should be. But did you call me here to put things together, or to rip them apart?”

Sesshomaru felt the frustration rise, then recognized it was because his brother was not fighting back. Inuyasha was behaving like the grown up between the two. It was embarrassing. His scowl deepened and he did not respond as he tried to come to grips with the dejection he suddenly felt. Gritting his teeth, he fought against it and felt the stoic mask slipped over his features once again.

“Keh,” Inuyasha concluded. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Hn.” Sesshomaru folded himself back down to the floor over the pieces he had been trying to screw together and felt sullen. His sunken eyes and raspy, tired voice looked at Inuyasha, almost defeated. “Hold on to the screw for a moment.”

His brother scoffed, but did what was asked of him, and together they got the back of the crib assembled.

They worked in complete silence, besides the younger’s swears under his breath as they finagled with the bulky fittings, and Sesshomaru felt every quiet moment bore heavily on him. He had always enjoyed the silence, but with so many things left unsaid in his mind, it was now suffocatingly oppressive.

He did not know if he meant to say much at all, but felt that he had to say something or he would break. Something other than trying to pick a fight and avoid what was actually wrong. “I tried to assemble this my first night back home,” Sesshomaru confessed, feeling the pressure of his grief swell behind his eyes. “It was so… cold. Our home was empty and motionless. Everything here felt dead and I could not…” He paused for a breath that was strangely hard to take in, and realized this was the most he had spoken to anybody since the night of the accident.

It did not feel good. It felt like dragging claws over fresh wounds.

The words slipped from him anyways, reopening things so they would heal properly. “If I chose to remain still, I am unsure if I would ever move again. So, I attempted to build this myself and I could not even get it unpacked without trouble.” He had then kicked the pile a few times and roared, but his brother did not need to know that part.

Inuyasha did not respond. He did not avert his eyes, either, meeting the rare honesty from his normally reticent brother in shock. Sesshomaru could read the slight fear in those eyes as they recognized the elder was reaching out, letting someone close when he was at his most unguarded, and he did not want to fuck it up by saying the wrong thing.

So instead, he said nothing and just listened. And it was the perfect response.

Sesshomaru broke the eye contact first, looking over the finished product of their night, and felt ten times lighter. “I was able to visit the baby today, and I could not leave this unfinished any longer.”

Inuyasha’s stunned expression grew and his shoulders sagged. “Holy shit, I had no idea.”

Nodding quietly, he appraised their work and tried to imagine the impossibly tiny girl sleeping safely near him.

His younger brother yawned loudly, then whipped his head around the room a couple times. “Wait, is this the room you want it in? ‘Cause I don’t think it can fit through your doorways.”

Without request or question, Inuyasha showed up every Friday night following that first, and together they slowly put together the room to welcome his daughter home.

.

Sesshomaru tried attending a few support groups. Repeatedly, he was told that being surrounded by people who have gone through similar ordeals would benefit him. They were supposed to be a safe space where they could talk about their process. He expected it to be full of boastful survivors, selling those who would listen on how they were experts on pain and healing.

It was surprisingly raw. Everyone had genuine pain and were genuine about their pain; visible for all to see, and their vulnerability was so foreign to him he felt more inadequate than put off. Each let their words escape from within them like he had with Inuyasha that first night. When it was his turn, he would decline, feeling awkward and unaccustomed to expressing himself outright. Immediately afterwards, however, he would attend visiting hours at the NICU.

Then, the words came easily.

The staff knew him, but not much about him. He was never one to open up much about anything, even happiness. He would sit next to his child’s incubator, his eyes trailing along the wires and tubes that were slowly decreasing in number, and waited until most of the attendants were a good distance away before greeting her.

Today, Sesshomaru shrugged off his outer jacket in the too warm room and sat in the familiar, horrendous chair. He was really beginning to hate the hard plastic, the inhuman non-ergonomic design, and the tilting from its uneven legs. Resigned, he slipped his hand inside the designated hole in her plastic shell and tickled her palm until her delicate, lanky fingers wrapped around his own.

“Hello, little one.”

At his touch, she pulled on the tip of his finger with a demanding ire. Her eyelids fluttered, but still were taped shut, and her head tossed gently side to side as she stirred. Even her legs kicked out, which made Sesshomaru smile.

“You are getting stronger,” he stated, then gestured to her feeding tube, the PEG he remembered, sticking from her small stomach. “You will have to feed yourself here soon.”

She kicked again, her head tilting back and thin, soft arms quaking as she stretched. Glancing around, Sesshomaru leaned closer to slightly increase their menial amount of privacy and spoke low.

“Yesterday, I went to a group for people who have become what is called ‘permanently disabled.’ It means their injuries will never heal, like mine.”

Once he began talking, she would always quiet and calm her anxious movements. Her slight chest and round belly that he could cover with one hand rose and fell in a quick, comfortable rhythm, as if lulled by the sound of his voice.

Taking solace in the fact that they both seemed to find comfort in this, he continued. “There was a woman who is paralyzed from the neck down. And she smiled most of the time. I can not comprehend the strength to face such a fate and smile. I do not know where to start, and it felt foolish to complain about…” He shrugged his left side, an action more for himself than for her. She laid peacefully in the incubator and Sesshomaru forced himself to look away from the beeping metal and plastic tubing, focusing once again on the developing chubby curve of her cheek and the unruly dark brown hair that now almost covered her entire scalp. 

“Your mother was always the one who knew what to say. She would tease me, declaring herself as my Social Shield. I was never very talkative, but I am trying.”

Just then, a nurse walked by and he noticed her uncomfortable stare. Immediately, he snapped his mouth shut and narrowed his eyes. “Yes?” he asked harshly.

She started, embarrassed that she had been caught. “Oh, um, everything alright over here?”

Sesshomaru didn’t answer, just bobbed his finger the little girl was holding onto and waited for their interruption to go away. 

“Have you…” the nurse began to ask, turning her eyes away from the intense stare he was leveling at her. “Have you spoken with the doctor today?”

His finger stopped and an icy weight dropped in his stomach. Suddenly dizzy, his vision sharpened and blood froze. The almost sad look in the nurse’s eyes and tentative way she had asked assaulted him with the feeling that something was about to go very wrong.

He forced himself to unclench his jaw and keep breathing slowly. His shoulders would not loosen, but as the baby shifted again, weakly crying out, he steeled himself to control his voice. If he let on that he was suddenly terrified, then it would just welcome his worst fears. “No.”

The anxious nurse nodded. “I’ll go send for him, then.” Without any more explanation, she hurriedly left them alone.

The willowy grasp of his daughter tightened once again, and Sesshomaru was left floundering.

It wasn’t more than a couple minutes before the doctor called him out of the room for the nurses to attend his baby’s feeding and care. Reluctantly, Sesshomaru had followed them to a cluttered office, declining the offer to take a seat upon entering.

The doctor's smile grew into a practiced, customer service grin that was meant to deliver news while tempering emotions. Sesshomaru frowned back.

“Well, your daughter has become a bit of a favorite amongst our staff! Her progress has been very promising and we are projecting to transition her to breathing on her own within the week. If that goes well, we can remove the PEG and allow her time with her eyelids open.”

The doctor paused, waiting for some hopeful response from Sesshomaru. He only glared back.

Suddenly disquieted, the physician cleared their throat and continued. “She has grown enough to perform some basic newborn tests. A lot looks really good. Her heart murmur is fading, she is absorbing nutrients really well and starting to do things like defecate on her own.”

“And the bad news?” Sesshomaru interrupted. He was having a hard time keeping his hand and legs from shaking. The adrenaline coursing through him was becoming unbearable, causing the ache in his missing arm to increase. His remaining hand clenched so tightly his fingernails bit deeply into his palm. He wished he could do the same with his left, but the ghostly disconnected feeling of the lost limb he couldn’t control just heightened his frustration.

He just wanted to know already.

The placating smile dropped from the doctor’s face. “We haven't been able to get any response with her hearing. There are a couple procedures we perform, which I can go over with you, but we are getting zero response in both her AABR and OAE tests.”

Sesshomaru lungs burned with his held breath and waited for them to continue, to hear the worst part of the news. The silence stretched.

Confused, the doctor’s brow knitted together and they concluded. “We are unsure if she will ever be able to hear.”

His own hearing faded, replaced by a high-pitched buzzing as the implication set in. Then, the color returned to his face and the air in his lungs escaped him in a rush.

“But, she’s okay?” He could not stop the way relief softened his voice. “She is deaf, but she is okay?”

A genuine smile stretched across the physician’s face. “She is more than okay. Other than the hearing loss, we don’t expect anything to inhibit her long term.”

.

Two weeks later, Sesshomaru sat on his jacket in an attempt to make the damnable chair more comfortable as he sat next to the strengthening baby. She was no longer caged in the incubator. The bandage on her stomach covered what would eventually be a scar she would always carry, but one he would teach her to wear proudly. It was a battle scar, a sign of how hard she fought and how far she would go to survive. His hand rested on her swaddled chest, feeling the quick beats of her heart and the deep inhales of breath she took in on her own.

He spoke low to his daughter, telling her about the room he and Inuyasha had put together for her, when a nurse was suddenly in front of them. “You want to hold her today?”

Kaede was a no nonsense, older woman who, he was almost sure, had a glass eye. She was one of the more familiar nurses that normally scuttled about her business, efficient in a way that only came with much experience, and had never bothered them before.

Sesshomaru automatically sneered in response and raised his left shoulder. “I would imagine it might be difficult.”

She clicked her tongue then reached into his space, uninvited, and the audacity shocked him still. With the practiced lack of decorum that most veteran nurses seem to have, she grabbed at the nub of his left arm, exploring the severed limb through his pinned-up long sleeve. Kaede prodded the tender end with the gentle grace of a curious toddler before grunted a positive ‘ _Hmpfh_ ’. He expected pain at the touch. Instead, he felt like a child himself.

“Hm,” she grumbled again, then stared him down even though they were almost eye level. Her eyes were hard, one glassy and artificial, the other experienced and wise, then said, “You’ve got a lot of good arm there. Don’t go wasting it.”

Sesshomaru thought she would leave him alone after that. He wanted her to.

She didn’t.

Finally, he nodded. Her thin lips were still plastered in her signature small scowl, but she relented her stare and turned towards the incredibly small bundle of blankets in the bassinet.

Sesshomaru’s heart pounded in his chest. After all that led up to this moment he expected fanfare or a moment to reflect. But, Kaede easily picked up the swaddled baby and unceremoniously placed her in his arm as if it were only the natural thing to do.

“Watch the head,” was the only bit of advice she deemed worthy to give him. The new father cradled her close against him with his good arm and, instinctually, used his half-arm to steady her in his grasp. For how important she was the bundle did not weigh much at all, and he felt an irrational fear that she would float out of his hold. Somehow, he still felt rooted to the ground at the same time.

“Hello, little one” he greeted with a shaky smile, then remembered she could not hear him and the hopeless feeling returned.

Her unfocused eyes searched around, unable to see anything more than a few inches from her. She struggled in the swaddling blanket and her little lip quivered. He wanted to comfort her, but his arm was keeping her secured. So, he lowered his head and gently pressed the tip of his nose against her own.

She quieted, rolling her head in clumsy circles. Sesshomaru chuckled, vibrating through them both, and she kicked happily in response. Then she opened her tiny, gummy mouth and cooed as it closed around his nose. She tried suckling a few times, only getting hints of salty tears as a few trailed down to his open smile. Her motion quickly became urgent and, finally frustrated, she bit her gums down hard and started to fuss.

“Looks like she is hungry,” Nurse Kaede stated and walked over with her arms out to take the baby away.

Sesshomaru almost growled, feeling a primitive need to keep the small girl at his side, and held her closer to his chest. “I will feed her.”

Kaede was obviously surprised. The old woman’s feet faltered and arms dropped to her side. Slowly, she smiled, a rare out-of-place expression, then commended, “Good job Dad. I will be right back.”

The approval of the cranky older nurse should not have mattered as much as it did, but for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, Sesshomaru felt pride.

As they waited for Kaede to return, his long fingers tapped a gentle pattern on her boney back while softly bouncing her within his hold. Even the stump of his arm fell into the easy rhythm of the soothing motion.

.

“It's terrible how something could be taken away so quickly when the healing takes so long. Some days it feels as if I never will. That I will always miss her, and that it will always ache, like this arm.” Sesshomaru's feet felt cold as he forced them to stay planted to the ground. The whole attendance of the disabled support group was staring at him and their scrutiny of his vulnerability almost shut him down. He closed his eyes and thought of his tiny girl trying to nibble the tip of his nose. He had to keep going, to fight like she was fighting, because they would have to struggle against so many other things together. They did not need to be fighting against themselves as well. 

“It is an impotent feeling,” he continued after a moment. “Like never being able to wake up. My wife was a part of me and she was cut out, and I still feel her there. I feel her in the room and I keep turning my head hoping to catch a glimpse.” He took another shuddering breath.

“I finished the birth certificate yesterday. She wanted to name our daughter Rin…” His eyes refocused. The vision of his wife’s smiling face faded as he was suddenly very aware of where he was and how very alone he felt. The fluorescent lights were too bright. Stale and bitter coffee flooded his senses and the faces of looking at him, listening intently, were crushing.

Speaking about his trauma was hard, but he made good progress today. He could tell because he felt like shit.

Sesshomaru quietly sat down, deciding not to finish the sentence, and stared at the floor. The muted, supportive clapping from the other members buffered against the protective bubble he hid back inside in. He could feel the pull of his grief and anxiety try to drag him to the ground. It had become a familiar feeling. There were so many uncertainties and variables, so many things he did not know how to beat, but there was also a light.

After four and a half months since the accident, he would finally be bringing his daughter, Rin, home.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun story: The day after my first was born I was meeting with the pediatrician when my daughter started choking on embryotic fluid (very common). I freaked and looked at the doctor. She only asked, "What are you going to do, Mom?"  
> It shocked me, but then I reached for the nasal aspirator and sucked out the fluid she was struggling with.  
> The doctor smiled and told me, "Good job," before continuing on like nothing happened.  
> That has stuck with me for SO long cause that one moment of panic, problem solving, and handling the situation gave me so much confidence going forward.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading! I hope you are liking it.


	3. BASEMENT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything Inuyasha.

The world was hazy. Time was an illusion. Simple pleasures such as being clean, eating a full meal, and body autonomy were distant memories. There was only Rin and what she needed.

The lack of sunlight outside was his only true indicator of the early morning hour. Sesshoumaru felt semi-lucid, his body rising from the bed on its own, as if it had always been this way, as if he had a choice either way.

"Your turn, I handled the last shift," he joked to the empty side of the bed. Many times, he had daydreamed about the moments that would never be. The stressed, groggy bickering as they cared for their baby. The sardonic jokes and hormonal mood swings. He would never hear her groan and drag herself out of bed. She would never rightfully gripe about her aching breasts or laundry or diapers. She would never turn her tired eyes to little Rin and have them light up, her protests shifting to coos and praise. They would never celebrate over Rin's little triumphs together. She was never given the chance and it still felt wrong not to have her there. So, sometimes, he spoke to her.

It did not hurt to do so, which he really thought it would. He did not pretend she was there, just tried to correct a horrible wrong, fruitless as it was.

Sometimes, he would reach over for her in the middle of the night to pull her close, as was their custom before. Those times did hurt.

Rin's cries began to become more insistent and he shook his head, trying to clear the fog. His feet shuffled to the kitchen to start warming her formula then went to her crib, leaning most of his weight over the edge. He wiggled the remaining part of his left arm against the side to support her as his hand snaked underneath to pick up the small, wiggling bundle.

Every night her cries were stronger. Sure, it felt like she was sucking his own life force for her own gain, but he would happily comply if that were the case. It meant she herself was getting stronger, yes, but her distress seemed to grow since they came home as well. He could not figure out why. 

Sesshoumaru changed her, leaving the pink zip-up pajamas off, and unsuccessfully tried to swaddle her. The blanket bunched around her shaking limbs as she grew more and more upset and insistent. He frowned, then abandoned the blanket all together.

He did not coo or speak softly her way. He knew she could not hear him anyways, and he thought it would be insulting to try. Again, he leaned over to position the small baby by his shoulder, then used his hand to lift her up, propping her high in his chest, and began to bounce. 

Even with the gentle motion, she did not calm. He had learned early on that if she got too upset she would not eat, which would not bode well for either of them getting any more sleep. The timer on her bottle warmer clicked off, and in his daze of exhaustion and noise, Sesshoumaru said, "Rin, it is ready."

His voice cracked, raspy from the days upon days of disuse, and it was unsettling to hear it. He sounded ready to break. Rin, however, seemed to respond.

It was slight, but he could have sworn while he was considering the rough edge of his voice, that the little girl had held her breath in response to it.

He listened for it again, but when he fell silent she cried loudly.

"Rin, what is wrong?"

Again, her cries dimmed.

Sesshoumaru's brows furrowed. He knew logically that she would be unable to hear him, but he could not disregard the reaction.

He cleared his throat then kept talking, speaking about nothing important. He counted his steps to the kitchen. Told her that the formula was not too hot. Asked if she was ready. With each sentence her cries lessened, until she was just taking in big, shaky breaths as she calmed.

It wasn't until he positioned to feed her, removing her from his shoulder, did he understand.

She had not heard him. She had felt him. Pressed closed to his chest, his low voice has vibrated through her, connecting her to him. He cradled her against the remaining upper arm of his left side, and kept her body pressed to him as he offered the bottle. He felt shamed for talking to someone who wasn't there instead of the person that was.

"I did not realize you wanted me to talk," he said in a way of an apology. "I am sorry, little one. I just do not know what to say."

Rin greedily drank from the bottle, her still infant eyes barely able to focus on anything more than a few inches from her face.

He brought her closer, her soft, chubby skin against his chest as they made skin-to-skin contact. "We will figure out a way to talk more. I promise."

Soon, she was back over his shoulder for a burp. Since Rin's release, they had stayed inside. When he needed groceries, he had them delivered. When he needed air, they opened the windows. The prospect of going outside grew more daunting the more he avoided it. There were too many questions he asked himself that he would not be able to handle others. He did not want to face their inquiries, or face how he would answer them...

He did not want their inquisitive looks or unsolicited advice of strangers. Their interest did not reflect true concern, but curiosity, and Sesshoumaru did not have the internal fortitude or the social aptitude to placate them. She was a preemie. She could not hear them. He was not babysitting for mom, he was the father. Mom was not taking a day off, she was no longer with them. He did not want to catch their not-so-careful stares at his missing arm. He did not want to see the question that danced in their eyes...

_How was supposed to do it on his own?_

Because he was not too sure either.

He knew that he did not have to be alone. Inuyasha had been there when he was called. Friends of his late wife had texted and dropped things off. One even planned the funeral, as he was in no shape to do so. He still struggled with reaching out, as if admitting the need for help automatically made him a failure. Yes, he knew this wasn't true, but he kept putting off accepting it. He had always done so, and he discovered trying to change himself while everything else in his life had been uprooted exceptionally difficult.

So, he would tell himself, _'Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will reply to some people. Tomorrow I will call. Tomorrow, I will let someone else in. But, I can handle this today.'_

He looked down at the sweet girl held close to him, felt her melt into his arm and slowly drift back to sleep, and promised, "Tomorrow, I will. Today, it is just us."

It was late morning when he woke again and Sesshoumaru felt like he could sleep for a millennia more. In their quiet, dimly lit room and listened for Rin stirring in her crib across the way. She was on her back, her round stomach moving up and down with each sleepy breath, and a tension eased within him. He rolled over to retrieve his phone, the habit his wife had tried to break sticking to him again. The blinking indicator light had become white noise to him at this point, and he mainly used it for the time, order delivery, and web searching hundreds of questions about infants a day.

Rising from the bed, he took the phone and baby monitor with him to the kitchen for some much deserved coffee and a moment of autonomy.

It was instinct that kept him walking softly and moving as silently as possible. He even winced when the empty mug clattered against the counter, but of course, it wouldn't wake her. The phone laid on the counter, blinking away as he poured his coffee and enjoyed the first hot sip of it. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he was able to enjoy a cup while it was still hot.

His cell phone lit up again. An incoming call this time, and he groaned at the caller.

Sesshoumaru traded the almost full mug for the phone. He had promised Rin last night that he would allow others in, but he was not expecting to have to talk to this person first.

"Father," he said as a greeting.

"Oh good!" the boisterous man on the other end said. "You're up."

The line went dead. Barely awake and confused, Sesshoumaru stared down at the device and almost jumped at the knocking on the door.

It was too sudden. He was not ready to actually face someone who would most certainly judge any sort of weakness. His father was not a bad man, but one who prided himself on the strength of his family. Running his long fingers through his hair, attempting to detangle and put himself together as fast as possible, he went to answer the door.

"Sesshoumaru!" his father said loudly, then frowned. "My god, my boy, you look like hell."

"A pleasure, as always," he responded, moving so that the man could come through the door.

The older man clapped his hand over Sesshoumaru's shoulder, then did a double take to ensure he had not grabbed onto the injured one. His father's smile of relief bit into his own pride.

"I have been calling and trying to get in contact with you. I am starting to think you have been avoiding me." After taking off his boots, the man went into the main living area and toured around uninvited. He could see his thinly veiled derision as he noticed the unfolded laundry on the couch, the takeout containers by the fridge, and the general entropy that came with having children. "Looks like you have your hands full here." This time, his father did not catch the mistake, and continued through the place as if looking for a place to rest that was worth accommodating him. 

"We are managing," he answered.

"And we are worried about you," he countered. "We have not seen you since the funeral."

Sesshoumaru fought the urge to roll his eyes at the word 'We'. He had never been close with Izyori, had never wanted to be, and certainly did not care for her concern now. "I've had other things to attend to." He took a long pull from his coffee, now lukewarm.

"Of course, now, where is my granddaughter? It is a crime that I have not been able to see her yet."

He bristled. "Did the circumstances of her birth inconvenience you?"

The cluelessly callous man waved his empty hand dismissively. "Don't start up with that. You know that is not what I meant."

"She is sleeping."

"Ah," his father responded, not hiding his disappointment. "So, any improvement on her hearing? You know, those tests aren't always accurate when they are young. There is a chance she can-"

Sesshoumaru cut him off. "Is there a particular reason you came by?" he asked pointedly, his eyes glancing at the package in his other hand.

With that, the older man held up a large manilla envelope and sighed. "Straight to the point, as always." The thick envelope was tossed on the counter between them. The motion of it trailed in Sesshoumaru's overly tired eyes and it stopped only a few inches from him. "The lawyers are finished fighting over her life insurance policy."

"I did not realize there was much to fight about."

"You know these types," his father responded with a shrug. "Quick to take your money, never to pay out."

Sesshoumaru stared at it, his frown deepening. Then, the tiniest sound echoed through the monitor. His father brightened. Sesshoumaru's gloom hovered closer to him.

"I can get her," the new grandfather said, already heading towards the bedroom.

"No!" Sesshoumaru stopped him, moving faster than he thought his exhausted body had the energy for. "I will. Wash your hands, we will be out in a minute."

No one else had seen her yet. Suddenly, all of his foreboding and anxiety was becoming clear. He was not worried about strangers judging him. He wanted to protect Rin from it. He has handled scrutiny and disapproval before. He was above it. The vulnerability he felt from losing his arm had weakened his confidence, but had also masked his real concern until now. Peoples' opinions did not affect him, but Rin was better than him. She was too sweet and too strong to have to deal with the ignorant 'well meaning' advice and comments of others. He had to protect her from it. Needed to. Her life should not have to come with a disclaimer to why she was valid just because there were things different about her.

He gathered her close to himself and tried to steady his breathing while she squirmed against him. He had panicked while she was in the NICU. He had fretted over her recovery and had been nervous about taking care of her alone at home. Now, this was a new phase; introducing her to the world.

He did not want his father to be the first. Oddly, he was suddenly wishing Inuyasha was there, even if he got on better with their sire than Sesshoumaru ever had. They were very similar, where he had taken after his mother.

The thought sobered him. She was another person he longed to be here. His wife and his mother both deserved to have this moment, to hold their first child and grandchild respectively. They should have had the opportunity to spoil the girl beyond redemption. To have girl's days and hard talks and the bonding that seemed so special and so unapproachable between women. 

Holding Rin now, he knew she deserved anything in the world, and he could not offer what she would need the most.

Swinging the door to his room open with his foot, he came back into the room as composed as he could manage at the moment. The lack of sleep and constant vigilance had frayed his nerves and lowered his standard for the time being, but as he got closer to his father he was becoming keenly aware of how he must have appeared.

His dark sweatpants most assuredly had a spit-up stain or two. His hair, though tied back, must have looked like a greasy nest of tangles. He had no shirt on and was in need of a shower. The bags under his dry eyes felt puffy and stung whenever he blinked. Sesshoumaru waited for comment from his father, and when none came, he dared to look him in the eyes.

But the older man was not looking at Sesshoumaru at all. The wide smile and hopeful brightness in his eyes was shocking to see. He sat on the couch and held out eager arms, almost giddy.

Still not sure if he was ready to share her with the world yet, Sesshoumaru gently placed her in his hold.

His father looked so at ease holding Rin. So practiced and confident. "There she is!" he announced softly down at the baby. She kicked out, beginning her normal fussing cues for a bottle, and looked around unfocused. She yawned, cooing loudly afterwards, and Sesshoumaru watched the elder man melt.

"Well done, my boy," he said, still staring at Rin. 

A weight dropped in his stomach. Whether it was relief or shock, the acknowledgement had pulled the rug out from under him. He did not hate the feeling, but was more unsure of what to do with it.

"I will need to prepare her a bottle. Are you okay with her?"

He scoffed through his unrelenting smile. "Of course we are! Aren't we, Rin?" He had no second thoughts about speaking to her, and Sesshoumaru got the sense that it was more for his own sake than for the girl's. He seemed desperate for the interaction.

His eyes did not leave the two for more than a moment while he sanitized the bottle, measured formula, and got it up to temperature. When he returned to their side, his father held out a hand as if to take it.

Sesshoumaru frowned. "I will feed her."

"Nonsense," he responded, missing the severity of his son's tone. "I might be out of practice, but I am an old hand at this." His charming smiled stretched, assured of his eldest's answer.

"No," the younger man countered. He watched the steady arm that cradled his child and the outstretched one awaiting the bottle. Both whole. Both strong and confident. He resented them. "I can manage."

"Come now, this isn't about managing, it is about letting someone give you a break! And, about humoring your old man."

Sesshoumaru's displeasure deepened, holding the bottle out of the other man's reach and felt adrenaline further souring his mood. "She is mine." Perhaps it was because his brain was only halfway functional, but the logic of the statement made sense to him. It wasn't until he said it out loud that its meaning could be seen as overly possessive.

His father's arm dropped and he looked, really looked, at his first born for a long moment. Rin was beginning to cry, angry that she had been denied her normal comforts, and the new grandfather bounced her instinctually. "Well then," he said, a little softer. "Let me make some room."

Carefully, he scooted over to one side of the couch, silently inviting Sesshoumaru to join them. His scowl remained, but he sat, securing the bottle between his knees, and snaked his arm around Rin.

As soon as she was against him again, he eased. It was unsettling and welcomed at the same time. Such a little thing had so much power over him. He could only be assured of her safety and health if she was with him. The tension in his shoulders lessened and Rin took the bottle eagerly. 

His father looked on at them, his smile returning. "Now there is a girl who knows what she wants."

Sesshoumaru almost rolled his eyes. "She is merely a few days old."

Toga again waved a dismissive hand, a move he had always hated. It was as if whatever he said, no matter his knowledge on a matter, was not comparable to the opinion his father held. "Nonsense, you can tell. You might not be able to see it until they are older, but all of their personality is there already. Why, with you, I swear you are the same today as you were the day we brought you home."

He was silent for a while. They never really discussed matters such as him as a child. Usually, those conversations would lead to ones about what went wrong, and the contemptuous atmosphere would surround their interactions for months afterwards.

Sesshoumaru swallowed hard and asked, "Are you implying that I am being childish?"

The hearty laugh that filled the room jarred his half-lucid state of mind. "Your words, not mine, Sesshoumaru," Toga joked before settling and reaching over to play with one of Rin's bare feet. "You were a quiet child, but obstinate. Oh, you could have stared down demons and have them scurrying away, I tell you." He continued to bounce her chubby foot as the two men sat together, learning to be comfortable together in this new situation, and listened to the sucking and bubbling sounds as the formula ran low.

"She is strong, Sesshoumaru."

"Yes," he responded. He expected it to sound bored. Instead, it was reverent. Would he ever get tired of praising her?

"Are you going to get those retests done?"

The warm feeling soured. "Leave it alone, father. Do not insinuate that I have not done everything I can for her myself."

The foot stopped bouncing. "I only want to help."

"No, you want to try and fix her. To fix us." His glare deepened. "We do not require you to fix us. If you truly wished to help, then perhaps ask what I might need instead of interjecting where you are not welcome."

Toga's wide eyebrows knitted together. "Perhaps you should ask for what you need then I would not have to 'interject' myself."

As the tension rose between them, he could feel Rin's calm dwindle and her tiny limbs tensed. 

"If I needed anything from you, I would ask," Sesshoumaru continued, "Like with the insurance."

With a loud huff, Toga rolled his eyes and squared his shoulders to his son. "And you are acting exceedingly grateful for my help. Is it too much to ask for a grandfather to spend time with his grandchild? Or to ask about her health?" He looked to the stump of Sesshoumaru's arm. "Or yours?"

Sesshoumaru bristled and felt his overly tired eyes sting ad head throb. Rin tore her mouth away from the bottle, a stream of formula running down her chin and onto his lap, and her eyes filled with tears. He scowled at his father, clearly blaming him for upsetting her.

Toga lifted himself off the couch with another roll of his eyes. "See? Obstinate, just like when you were a child."

'Just like Mother' Sesshoumaru immediately thought, but kept it to himself. He positioned Rin over his shoulder and watched his father retrieve his boots.

"Do not expect me to stay a stranger, son," he called from the front door. "And do not expect to be able to do this on your own."

Had he been more lucid, Sesshoumaru was sure he could have come up with a biting retort. However, he had just stared until the older man was out the door, relieved to finally be alone and uncomfortable with the thought of it at the same time.

After a little while, he was able to calm Rin down enough to clean her up for the day. She laid on her stomach in the living area, protesting the position with small grunts and bubbly coos, and Sesshoumaru finally retrieved his now ice cold cup of coffee off the counter.

He downed it in one pull, grimacing at the bitter, gritty taste. The mug landed on the counter with a hard clunk as he stared at his phone.

Of course he could not do it on his own, but dammit he was going to determine who would help him.

.

The first call he made was not the one he expected himself to. Initially, he wanted to reach out to Inuyasha, but the visit from their father left a bad taste in his mouth. Sesshoumaru knew his half-brother would have heard all about how 'difficult' he had been toward their old man and how 'unreasonable' it was for him to be alone at this time.

He did not want to be alone, but the person he wanted to share it with was gone.

Sesshoumaru barely remembered the funeral. He had just been released from the hospital and was still on a regular regiment of painkillers for his arm at the time. Rin had been through a tough touch-and-go the night before as well. The friend who had organized everything, Kikyo, also drove him to the service. There were far too many people for his liking, and they all wanted to share their grief with him. Sesshoumaru found that wildly unfair. He could barely keep it together with his own, why should he be burdened to know of others? Theirs could not compare to his, anyhow, and seemed so nonconsequential. He could not even remember who all was there, just that there were too many and they felt like invaders.

He did remember the flowers. He had stared at them most of the time. The arrangements were classy and mostly understated, with wild sprays of magenta blooms that seems to capture how she had colored his life.

Now, as he began the phone call, he could smell those flowers and was able to fully feel how grateful he was for all of Kikyo's previous help.

"Kikyo, hello," he greeted. " I was hoping you would be able to assist me tonight."

Sesshoumaru listened to her steady, solemn voice on the other end. She was always a more serious person, much like himself. His wife had always seemed to attract those types to her.

"Seven is more than acceptable. Thank you."

Rin was fed up with her tummy time exercises and was letting him know with increased wailing. Rolling her over, Sesshoumaru smiled down at the fussy babe.

"I believe we have some cleaning up to do."

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went through the quickest of edits, so sorry if there are mistakes. Normally, I comb through a chapter over and over again trying for 'nerely perfect', but I am starting to feel like that is getting in the way of just writing? So, while it might have more pronouns and less environmental influences/themes than I normally like, I still feel like this gets the emotional point across I was going for.
> 
> Mostly, I just hope you like it. :)
> 
> (and yes, Kagome will be introduced next chapter.)


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